Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INTROIT: AN ECHO, by KATHARINE TYNAN

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

INTROIT: AN ECHO, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: I look and see the world is fair
Last Line: Seeks us again, finds us again.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hinkson, Katharine Tynan
Subject(s): Future Life; God; Love; Nature; Retribution; Eternity; After Life

I LOOK and see the world is fair,
And marvel much at what can move
The Lord of Earth, the Lord of Air,
To such extremity of love.

Seeing we have so short a space
To abide on this side of the tomb,
We could have borne a barer place,
An unadorned but cleanly room.

Pilgrim am I and wayfarer,
Sojourner one night at an inn;
What matters if the room is bare,
So that the bed and sheets be clean?

But ah, dear Lord, this would not suit
Thy love for me, impure, unkind;
Thou settest the daisies at my feet,
Mak'st me the sky, mak'st me the wind.

Me doth ingenious Love devise
The mountains and the lakes and sea,
All roses and the peacock's eyes;
The sun runs round its course for me.

For me the children and the lambs,
For me the nightingale and lark,
All fields and meadows and tall palms
And the starred curtain of the dark.

Yea, in Thine Image, I am given
The eyes to look beyond our night;
The love which makes of earth a Heaven,
Yea, I am loved in my despite.

Why should I try to tell them o'er,
Thy mercies that will not be said,
More than the sands on the sea-shore,
More than the hairs upon my head?

Thou, Artisan and Architect,
And Master-Lover, Master-Mind,
With wondrous cunning Thou hast decked
These walls for common eyes and blind.

Since Thou dost such delights provide
For passing earth and sinful men,
What can it be Thou settest aside
For man when he is risen again?

What is it that Thou hast reserved?
What glories on his sight will break,
When he sits down by angels served
And at Thy board his thirst will slake?

Alas, my Lord, why wouldst Thou strive
To make so fair a house of call,
That there are some who here will live
As though Thy lovely earth were all?

Yea, though we turn Thy gifts to ill,
Make of Thy benefits our bane,
Thy love, Thy love, transcending still,
Seeks us again, finds us again.

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